CUT FINGERS AND BOILED POTATOES

A few days ago I was about to cut something with a brand new super sharp, Stanley type blade, that I just took out of the packaging. I had the blade in my right hand, while holding the item to be cut (mounting board) with my left hand. Just as I was about to cut, Rocky (my boxer dog) came into the room and decided that it was time to play. So he ran up and nudged me (Ok he pushed me) and I ended up slashing a 1 1/4" deep gash along the side of my index finger. When I say a deep cut, I could see the inside of my finger before the blood started to pour. The best thing at the time would have been to go to the doctor or hospital so they could stitch my finger back together. However, as I just did not have the money to get a taxi to the hospital and pay the hospital fee. I ended up treating the cut myself. Just so you know, if it happened to anyone else, I would advise them to go to hospital.

Anyway, I grabbed my first aid kit and taped the gash closed and then made a splint from a pencil before bandaging it up. I have to say I did a really good job and now, five days later my finger is well on the way to healing. I have now taken the splint off and after cleaning and redressing the wound, my finger seems fine. The only thing is, if I bend my finger, I am fairly sure the wound will reopen and I will be back to square one. Ok it is a bit awkward as I have to wear a rubber glove when washing, but the worst thing about my injury is, it looks like I'm permanently pointing at things with my left index finger. In a week or so I am hoping my finger will be ok and I will be able to take my bandage off for good.

When I was cabinetmaking, getting cuts on my fingers, was almost a daily thing as I would be using sharp blades or getting splinters and also cuts from sharp edges of the raw materials that we were using at the time. However, the most common cut of all was when we were hand sanding and the skin on your fingers would just get worn away after a few hours. As you need to use your sense of touch while working on fine finishing, on a peace, it was impractical to wear protective gloves. We all used to end up, wrapping masking tape around each finger as the skin wears away, so you could still use your sense of touch with your remaining fingers. As most woods have antiseptic properties, most, if not all cuts would be healed within a day or so and by the time you had your weekend and are back to work on Monday, your hands would be back to square one for another week of cuts and grazes.

So if you ever buy a handmade piece of high quality furniture, you can be sure that real blood, sweat and tears have gone into it's construction. Don't let that put you off as there would not be any blood on the furniture by the time the finishing sanding was done and it was ready for polishing. I miss doing that kind of work.

I have always found I strange that people tend to look down on the guy that works with their hands. They assume that if someone works with there hands, it must be down to a lack of both intelligence and education. They dont seem to concider how creative and inventive this kind of job can be. I have seen this a few times when I worked in an office environment, and have heard work colleagues make remarks regarding people doing physical jobs rather than sedentary jobs like sitting on your arse all day in an office. I used to put this down as pure stupidity as some of the dumbest people I have ever known, worked in the office with me. Well in fairness I can't really say they were dumb, I think to be truthful, they just lacked the life experience to know any better or more commonly, they just had an opinion about themselves. In truth I have only came upon this once or twice and what made me remember this more was the fact they were upper class twits, who had everything handed to them from the day they were born. OMG, I really better stop as I am starting to sound bitter LOL. 

The hardest work I ever did in my life was when I was still living at home in Donegal (still at school) and it was helping a local farmer to pick potatoes. On our days off from school, I would have to get to the field with a gang of others, at 7.30am and we would spend the whole day bent down, gathering potatoes till about 6 or 7 that evening. I can tell you, this is really hard work and your hands would be in bits by the end of the day. The worst thing was the pain in your fingers as the soil would push up between the nail and the finger all day. But to be honest, it was the pure numb ness of being bent over and gathering spuds into large baskets before filling the spuds into sacks. You would just about be finished before the farmer would open up a fresh drill with the potatoes spinner on the back of the tractor. The combs of the spinner would rotate like blades of a propeller that hits the drill and throws the soil and potatoes out, five or six feet. As the tractor passes, you are expected to gather them into baskets as fast as possible, before the whole cycle starts again. As hard as the day's work was, it was always a great feeling at the end of the day and the farmer pays you for your time. 

I remember going home and trying to wash the soil from under my nails before tucking into a dinner and supping a nice hot cup of tea. Some of my friends would skip school to join a digging gang for the autumn and by the time they went back after a few weeks, they would have earned a small fortune. I wasn't allowed to miss school so I couldn't join.  It would have been nice to earn money back then.

Now of course, most farmers have potato harvesting machines that will do most of the work, so it seems that the days of potato picking is over for most of us in Donegal. It's strange how I look at this with nostalgia, when at the time it was really hard painful work that had to be done in all weathers, wind, rain and even sleet. I wish I was 17 again although I would only be for the physical fitness of youth.

Now after all that, I'm going off now to make a dinner with some Donegal grown potatoes and a nice cup of tea.